Through Your Eyes
by IfIDiedYoungWouldYouNotice
Summary: AU: Sherlock and John share a telepathic link, allowing then to see what one another is doing. Leads to romance, and smut. based off the movie: In Your Eyes. Just want to say, this may be a bad description but it is a really good story!
1. Chapter 1

So this is a story that is a crossover from a movie I have recently seen! It's called In Your Eyes, and all the credit goes to this movie. It is a very good movie and you should watch it! I highly recommend it, now I hope you enjoy! Oh right! P.S. I have no idea about war and military background, so it's a bit sketchy there. I am also an American, so there is that.

OoooooO

A little boy with golden brown hair, and dark brown eyes watches as his breath floats in front of him in white puffs. He is wearing a blue puffy jacket, mittens which make his hands itchy, and snow boots that were a size too big for him. But, he didn't care. He watched excitedly as the other kids took turns sliding down the snow covered hill, his heart thumping in his ears. He waited eagerly as his mother led him up the hill, dragging his wooden sled along behind him.

It was finally his turn, and he couldn't stop staring down at the hill. He positioned himself onto his sled, laying on his belly, his hands holding tightly to the front of his sled. His cheeks were warm, his mother giggling behind him.

"Are you ready, John?" His mother's voice was soft and calm, and John waited a few seconds until he finally nodded. And with that his mother gave a gentle push, and down John went, a big smile plastered to his face.

OooooooO

At the same time, across the United Kingdom, another little boy was in school. His black curly untamed hair sat upon his head, his greenish-blue eyes were staring into a book, absorbing all the knowledge.

"Sherlock Holmes, put the book down."He tried to ignore the voice, but it repeated itself again. His eyes flicked up to meet the dull brown eyes of his teacher, Mr. Hughes. He placed a piece of paper upside down on Sherlock's desk, who simply ignored it, knowing it was a graded test which he passed.

Sherlock set the book down, sighing in boredom as he stared forward at the backs of the other students. No one ever looked back at him, afraid that he would ridicule or abuse them with words. He found everyone so stupid, because they all were. He shifted in his desk, placing his hands over the edge in front of him.

He felt cold for some odd reason, as though he were outside in the snow. He didn't know what was happening, but he clung to the desk as though letting go would lead to something terrible. He felt his vision blur, as though he were looking through blurry glasses. He saw snow, and trees, lots of trees. Sherlock felt himself begin to shake, his hands gripping tighter on his desk. He felt like he was sledding, and he shivered in the cold. As he went down what was a steep hill, he saw that he was approaching a tree, and could not stop.

Apparently he was making a scene, and everyone was staring at him. His teacher was approaching him, but Sherlock didn't understand what he was saying. The tree got closer and closer, until he finally hit it. His vision was black, he fell out of his desk and felt the cold floor beneath him.

"John!" He heard a woman's voice, before he fully blacked out.

OoooooooO

John had hit the tree with his sled, yelping out on impact, he had been knocked off and was lying in the snow. He felt like he was bleeding, and he heard a faint voice come from somewhere.

"Sherlock? Sherlock, wake up…" It sounded faint, and John didn't know who was speaking.

"John! John! Please get up, please…" His mother's voice was frantic, and she was gently moving him to get him up. The cold snow seemed oddly comfortable, and he felt a warm liquid matting his hair.

0oooooooo0

John didn't hear the name Sherlock for a while, until he was in Afghanistan. He was currently being shot at during a raid, and the fact that he was seeing nothing but a needle in his arm was a bit unsettling. His vision was blurring from the desert floor, to some dirty room with dark lighting. John squeezed his eyes shut, bullets flying past him in a blur.

John was breathing hard, sweat sticking to his military gear. He tried to move, but his brain was fuzzy, as though he were high. He stumbled from his spot, falling onto the hot dirt floor. He heard someone yelling at him.

"Capitan! Get back!" Someone yelled, but John couldn't move. For a second he felt like he was floating, but then he felt something go right through him. It happened so fast, and John did not know how to react. He fell to the floor, his body numb, and his shoulder on fire. He'd been shot.

"He's down! We need a medic!" He was being bragged away from the line of fire, yelling out in pain.

"He is the medic!" Another voice yelled back, making John grunt at the irony. He was being hover over by another person, his vision no longer blurry, and he couldn't see the needle in his arm anymore. He saw the look of shock the other man had on his face as he was putting pressure of John's wound.

"Capitan, stay awake...we need you to stay awake!...Capitan….awake…" John was losing consciousness, and he felt blood pooling under his gear. He was breathing hard, and he was trying to stay awake. He felt cold, and was shivering, his teeth chattering.

"Sherlock!" He heard someone whisper aggressively, making John concentrate on the voice. "What would mother say?" The voice sounded smug, and cold. John gave up, thinking he was going crazy and let himself slip into slumber.

OoooooooO

John left the army. Or he was discharged, leaving him with a limp and a tremor in his hand. He still saw things that weren't really there, and heard voices that were only in his head. The name Sherlock popped up every now and then, making him want to throw something. He was crazy, he decided, and for a while there he lost himself.

OoooooooO

Sherlock began to work with the Yard, chasing murderers and solving mysteries. Shooting heroin behind closed doors, and passing out with a needle stuck in his arm. His massive intelligence made his brain work as fast as a computer, and whenever it would overheat, he would shoot up to calm his senses.

He lived life to many extremes, and whenever he would have an 'episode', he felt as though he weren't alone in the world. He saw many things. Bloodshed, tons of it, enough to last a lifetime. He saw a woman; presumably a therapist, speak of getting used to normal life again, and ways to deal with depression. He also saw lovers, a lot of woman lovers, all different each time.

Sherlock recalled them calling him John, but he didn't know any John's and for a time there he though he were crazy, these episodes disrupting his life. The 'episodes' would occur at random times, whenever he was chasing a criminal, conducting experiments, ridiculing the Yard for their incompetence, and or when he was shooting up.

Basically it annoyed Sherlock, and he wanted to find a way to make this stop. Ever since he was a child they bugged him, and he wanted to find who this John was. He went to his older brother Mycroft, which was a terrible decision, resulting in him going to a mental institute for three months. Sherlock never trusted anyone ever again, even though he never did in the first place, but this just made him more isolated.

OoooooooO

For months, neither of them had an episode, and it was as though all their problems were gone.

OooooooooO

John was on a date when he first spoke to Sherlock.

He was out on a date with a woman named Sarah, a colleague from the clinic he was currently working at. John really liked her, her nice smile, her long legs, and her long brownish red hair. They got long, and John thought maybe they could have a relationship afterwards.

They were at a restaurant called 'Crewshaw' (obviously a fake restaurant). Chatting about the day, and laughing at dumb jokes John was telling every now and then. He didn't notice it at first, his vision blurred as he looked at the menu. First there were words, then he saw a violin. He was looking at the strings of a violin, and fingers were wrapped around it, holding it up against his chin.

John was stunned at first, setting the menu down and excusing himself from the table.

"Are you okay?" Sarah asked, and John nodded his head quickly.

"Just need to use the loo real quick," he replied, and before she could say anything else he was gone.

He calmly enter the posh bathroom, ignoring the person washing his hands. Making his way to the nearest stall he secured the lock, and sat on the toilet. Taking deep breaths he tried to calm down, his vision still blending in with the violin. He never expected to hear it be played.

The melody was making him forget how to breath, because the violin was new to him. He had never heard it before, and he was a bit appalled.

The song played for a while, and when John heard it end he felt tears in his eyes.

"That was beautiful," he said.

OooooO

"That was beautiful," Sherlock heard from nowhere, making him whip his head around.

"What?" He answered, to who? How would he bloody know?

"What?" The voice replied, equally shocked, "can you hear me?" it asked, a bit low.

"Yes...I can..?" Sherlock did not know what was happening, and he did not like not knowing.

It was quiet for a bit, both not knowing what to say, and John was worried that something had happened.

"Hello? You still there voice in my head?" He asked, making Sherlock scoff.

"I am pretty sure you are the voice in _my_ head." He answered, making John smile.

"Where am I?" John asked, seeing a plush armchair from across him, and a kitchen just beyond that.

"My living room...why am I in a stall?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow at the porcelain floor he was staring at, and john laughed.

"I escaped to the bathroom because I suddenly saw something besides my menu in front of me, so I ran away from my date." John forgot he was on a date for a few moments there.

"Ah, a date?" The voice asked, and John cleared his throat.

"Yes...It's when two people who like each other have dinner," he teased, making Sherlock roll his eyes.

"I know what a date is…" Sherlock said, and john sighed.

"Right...Well I should get back to mine...Now voice in my head, do you go by anything else?" John was getting up from the seat, unlocking the stall door.

"Like I said, _you're_ the voice in my head. And the name's Sherlock Holmes.." John felt his body stop.

"Sherlock Holmes?" He repeated, his eyebrows knitting together.

"And you are?" Sherlock asked.

"John...John Watson." He answered, finally leaving the stall. No one was around, so John went to the sinks to wash his hands.

"So that's what you look like..." He heard Sherlock say, and John felt his ears heat up. "Nice to put a name with a face," he continued.

"I'm not much to look at, but its better than some wart skinned weirdo right?" John joked, but Sherlock answered seriously.

"That is a good thing though. Having a 'weirdo' who is in my head would be...a major mood killer." He said, making John laugh.

"Thanks mate, that makes me feel better. I think?" Someone entered the bathroom, giving John an odd look. John cleared his throat and looked back down at his hands which were still under the water.

"You should go back to your date. I think she's waiting for your return." John shut the water off and looked back into the mirror.

"Right. Uhm...would you like to continue this conversation later?" John felt nervous, afraid the other would say no.

"I'll be up all night. So if you want, then yes." Sherlock replied, making John smile widely.

"It's a date." John said, and without knowing how he did it. He cut the connection off, and returned to his date with Sarah.

"Did you get lost?" Sarah asked, humor in her eyes. John cleared his throat as he sat across the table from her.

"Sorry about that. Just uhm... Just..." John didn't know how to explain what had happened, so he didn't try to. "Well anyways. I'm back, so let's order?" He smiled awkwardly, and so did Sarah.

"Right, yea." She said, looking back down to her menu. John did the same, his thoughts filled with the baritone voice of the mystery man in his head.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock sat in his armchair stunned, and quiet confused. The voice of this John Watson still fresh in his mind, and his appearance made Sherlock's heart thump loudly. Sherlock hated it.

He didn't know who this person was, or how he could hear and see what the other person was seeing, but he didn't care. He wanted John Watson out of his head. All he did was make him look like a fool, and give Sherlock a migraine.

He didn't know how long he had been sitting there lost in his thoughts, because apparently John had found his way back into Sherlock's mind. Apparently John had gotten the whole getting into Sherlock's head, and yet Sherlock didn't know how he did it.

"Hello? Sherlock?" He heard. Sherlock could only describe the connection as a fuzzy feeling in the back of his head, making him feel like someone was in his space. His vision began to blur, a different scenery overlapping his sight.

There was Sherlock's living room one minute, and the next it was as though he were in a small room, laying on a bed. It was dark, lamplight streaming in from the streets.

"Hello John," he simply replied dryly as he tried to concentrate on one of the scenery's.

"Catch you at a bad time?" John asked, his voice was like soft, and he was breathing kind of hard.

"No." Sherlock replied vaguely. He heard John clear his throat, and inhaled sharply. The smell of flowers and sweat filling his senses, making him hold his breath.

"What is that smell?" Sherlock asked, his nose scrunched up at the smell.

"What do you mean?" John questioned, he was beginning to whisper. Sherlock saw John bring his arm up to his nose, smelling the skin beneath it. He also saw John get up, eyes on the floor so he wouldn't trip as he walked out of what was the bedroom. The walls were bare, just egg shelled colored. John flopped onto a stiff couch, the only furniture in the living room.

"You smell like flowers and sweat..." The smell filled Sherlock's nose again, the flower smell not so strong this time. "You engaged in sexual activities didn't you?" He asked, voice low.

"Oh...Yes. I did...Sorry if I smell bad." John apologized, making Sherlock clear his throat this time.

"No..No, its quite alright." He said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"Do you feel uncomfortable?" John asked, and Sherlock looked down at his lap. He was in his nightgown, gray shirt, and sweats.

"Sex does not alarm me." He answered. Granted he was a virgin, but some cases called for him to use his sex appeal, which always worked. Sherlock knew he was attractive, and he knew that he could use his looks to get what he wants, which was always information.

"Thinking back to all the times I have had...an "episode"...I have never seen a female with you. Nor a male. Then again I always thought whatever this is, was a dream...And now that I know its not," John stopped, because he didn't know how he felt. Hell, he didn't even know Sherlock that well. "Anyways," John whispered," I'll leave you be...I have to be at work early in the morning."

Sherlock felt the fuzziness in the back of his head begin to fade away, and though he should be glad, he didn't know how to feel besides loneliness.

"Wait!" He finally said, before John's presence had left him. "Would you like to talk again tomorrow?" He asked, giving himself a weird look. Sherlock Holmes never asked to speak to people more than once, especially if it was a person who held no valuable knowledge. Yet, John Watson could come into his head at any time, and make him see things that would drive him crazy. John Watson could make his senses go haywire, and made his experiments more interesting.

"Why yes, I would enjoy continuing our conversation tomorrow." John's voice was slow as though he were trying not to fall asleep, making Sherlock curse himself for thinking it was cute.

Sherlock cleared his throat again, " Right. Well then goodnight...John." He said awkwardly, not knowing if that was a good way to end the conversation.

"Goodnight Sherlock." John replied. And the fuzzy feeling faded away, leaving Sherlock alone in his livingroom. How they could just do that had Sherlock stumped, and it made his blood boil.

OoooooooO

They spoke again the next day while John was on his break, and this time they asked many questions. Sherlock was determined to get as much information from the man as he could, his experiment needed the information. He had nothing better to do anyways, his latest experiment was in the oven. Sherlock spoke of his detective work, and John spoke of being a doctor in the army. They both learned that they were residing in London, and not far from each other also.

Sherlock was sprawled out on his couch, staring at the ceiling above him. John chuckled, commenting on how Sherlock should give him a tour of his home, to which Sherlock ignored.

"Do you like the cold," Sherlock asked, quite suddenly. Making John stop eating his sandwich, his body shivering at the thought of snow.

"Not really, bad childhood experience with it.." He answered, mouth somewhat full with ham and cheese.

"Bad sledding accident huh?" Sherlock said, making the other nearly choke on his food.

"How did you-? No wait, dumb question. Yes," he continued," I had a bad sledding accident...Got 12 stitches on my head, and never wanted to go sledding again."

Sherlock sighed," I remember that the most because it was the first time that I saw something like that…" He closed his eyes momentarily, bringing his hands together under his chin as though he were praying.

"Sherlock, can I see you?" John asked, " I mean...You've seen me, I mean you've seen my face. I have no idea what you look like though, so can I? Can I see you now?" Sherlock didn't have any problem with showing John what he looked like, yet for some odd reason he felt self conscious about it. He worried that John would think he was too pale, too tall, too intimidating. Hell, just too much.

"Sherlock?" John repeated after a few passing moments of silence.

"Right." He muttered to himself, pulling himself up from his laying position. He made walked to the bathroom that was down the hall, stopping in front of the shut door. "Do I have to?" He asked, making John chuckle.

"No, but just to make sure you're not some wart covered weirdo, I would like you to." He teased, making Sherlock crack a smile.

"Let's just hope you won't think I look like one. People seem to be intimidated by my looks..." And with that Sherlock reached for the doorknob, pushing the door open and flicking the light on. He walked toward the mirror above the sink, and slowly settled his eyes on his face in the reflection.

His hair was a mess of dark curls atop his head, his ocean blue eyes standing out against his pale skin. His prominent cheekbones were his most attractive feature, along with his strong chin.

"Wow." John finally said, making Sherlock knit his eyebrows together in confusion.

"What?" He asked. John by now was no longer eating, and was staring in awe at the man in his sight.

"You...You are beautiful." John said without thinking, catching Sherlock by surprise.

"Beautiful?" Sherlock asked, his cheeks flushing a bit. He has never been called beautiful before, and he was sure men weren't suppose to be called that.

John couldn't believe he just called another man beautiful. And he sat there internally cursing himself for saying that out loud.

"Weird to say to a man right?" John felt his ears burn with embarrassment," but its true. You are very attractive." John admitted.

"Oh. Well." Sherlock cleared his throat. "Thank you, for the compliment." Sherlock glanced away from his reflection, and down to his sink. He saw a needle laying there near the soap bar, and reached to put it away.

He heard John gasp, stopping his movement automatically. Sherlock didn't care if John saw the needle, he could lie saying it was for an experiment, or come clean and say he was a drug addict. It didn't really matter to him, since it was his own business.

"Sherlock, why do you have a needle?" John asked, but Sherlock knew he already knew the answer.

"John, I know you already know why." He answered back simply.

"But I want to hear you say it." John pushed. Sherlock could hear John's voice begin to be a bit tense. "I'm a doctor Sherlock, and I know a dirty needle when I see one..."

"What I do with my body is none of your business, if you were in my place, you would do drugs too for some peace and quiet." John lost his appetite, his sandwich just sitting in front of him, half eaten.

"That is true. But the last time I saw a needle was when I was in Afghanistan. And it's how I was shot." John was speaking through clenched teeth. Sherlock's blood ran cold, and his eyes were big.

"John. You did drugs while serving?" Sherlock sounded shocked, and John scoffed.

"No you twit. For an apparent genius you are very dumb sometimes." John joked, though it sounded forced," It seems while you were getting high, I was getting shot at. Resulting in me being affected, and me actually getting shot."

"John...I...I am sorry..." Sherlock stammered, and John knew then he couldn't get over something from so long ago.

"Its okay...it's just now you know your habit affects me too. Except I can pass a piss test, and you wouldn't." John joked, trying to ease the tension he caused. Yet he could sense that he dropped a bomb onto Sherlock, as though he were blaming him. But John didn't, he didn't blame Sherlock.

Sherlock ran a hand through his hair, John feeling the softness of the curls, shivering slightly at the touch. They were like one, being able to feel, smell, hear, and see what the other does. And sometimes it was a burden.

"John." Sherlock began, "would you like to meet each other? I would like to apologize to you face to face.." His voice was above a whisper, and yet in John's head he could hear it as loud as though he were speaking clearly.

"That would be nice, we could have tea."

OoooooooO

Sherlock waited impatiently for John to show up at their meeting spot. They had a greed to meet up at a restaurant called Angelo's, which wasn't far from where John was working. While Sherlock sat there looking out of the window every now and then, he couldn't help but feel as though John weren't going to show up. He was reaching for his coat behind his chair, when he saw a small figure come into the restaurant, limping and holding onto a cane.

Sherlock stared at John's cane for a bit too long, his thoughts all blaming him for causing this mans pain.

"Sherlock, I told you. It wasn't your fault. You didn't know that it would affect me." John had repeated more than once whenever he noticed Sherlock's eyes on his cane or his left hand.

"It might as well have been." Sherlock spat back, his blue eyes full of annoyance. It only made John chuckle, and smile widely at the man across from him. Sherlock knew he didn't deserve this man's smiles, and or his laughter.

As they talked more, John learned that Sherlock saw John trying to save lives, and saw people die in front of him from being shot, blown up, and even stabbed. John felt what Sherlock felt when he was sent away to a mental hospital.

"It was like I was underwater…My mind fuzzy, and not all there." John described, taking a sip of water from his glass.

"Must have been all the drugs I was taking...And let me tell you, there were a lot." Sherlock added, his eyes looking at John's lips as they touched the glass.

Sherlock was categorizing everything John was doing. The way he smelled, the way he licked his lips every now and then, just everything John did, Sherlock captured it all.

OooooooooO

John never knew when he fell in love with Sherlock, but he did. Maybe it was after helping kill a serial murderer, or after he moved into the same flat with the other male, but John Watson fell in love. And, Sherlock found out not too long after. After all, they basically shared their emotions with each other, so who wouldn't notice John's heart thumping loudly in his ears whenever Sherlock was near him.

But, who would have thought serving someone tea would give away your feelings for another person, but then again it was Sherlock Holmes they were talking about. Sherlock bloody Holmes.

"When did you fall in love with me?" He asked as John set his tea in front of him, shock plastered onto his face. Sherlock held his violin against his chest, playing the instrument with his fingers.

"What?" John asked, dumbly.

"I asked you 'when did you fall in love with me?'" Sherlock repeated himself, pulling a few chords that made a 'thwing' sound. John opened his mouth as to say 'but I don't',but he knew Sherlock could tell he would be lying, so he closed it.

"I don't really know when it happened," John admitted,"I just did." He sat across from Sherlock in his armchair, bringing his cup up to his lips taking a sip of tea.

"Hm." Sherlock grunted. "Finally acknowledging your feelings for me, took you long enough." Sherlock mumbled. And John nearly spat out his tea.

OooooooooO

Sherlock kissed John.

After a stressful case of chasing a serial rapist, they finally cornered him in a bar. Which then led John to tackle him to the floor, while Sherlock called Lestrade. After everything was over with, John was about to praise Sherlock for how amazing he was realizing who the rapist was just but the turn ups on his jeans. They were leaning against a police car as Lestrade made them wait for questioning, John turning to Sherlock.

Instead of words coming out John's mouth, it were more like a muffled grunt as Sherlock bent over to plant his lips onto John's, tongue darting straight into the other's mouth. It wasn't a short kiss either, it was long, slow and very wet. It made John's knees go weak and his heart feel like it was going to explode. He clung to Sherlock's arms for support, and Sherlock wedged a knee between John's legs, supporting him against the car. Sherlock explored John's mouth with his tongue, holding John's head with his hands as their muscles danced together.

John felt so much pleasure, as though it doubled because he was connected with Sherlock. He felt Sherlock growl against his lips, as though he wanted to rip off his clothes and molest him right then and there. John snapped his eyes open, and weakly pushed at Sherlock's chest, trying to push him off.

"You guys should get a room." Lestrade said from behind Sherlock, making the taller man slowly pry himself off of John. Both of them were breathing hard, eyes full pupil, lips swollen red, cheeks flushed, and pants a bit too tight for the both of them.

"Honestly," John said, staring at Sherlock," Yes, we do."


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock cornered John in the kitchen, against the table which held all Sherlock's beakers, and other specimen. He had his mouth on John's neck, sucking lightly as the other male moaned out in pleasure.

"Sherlock..." John panted, lightly tugging at Sherlock's dark locks. He had always wanted to taste John, to feel him writhe underneath his presence. The soft noises coming from John, made Sherlock shiver with pleasure. John was emitting a feeling of want, and need, making Sherlock's mouth water.

"John, turn over." He said into the others skin, making John swallow hard. Both have never been this excited before, the new sensations making both of them feel wild.

"Sherlock," John breathed," you sure you know what you're doing?" His voice was shaking a bit from excitement as he turned his back to Sherlock.

"I've been studying." Sherlock replied, he began to John's jacket off, tossing to the side. He slowly touched John's shoulders, running his fingers up and down the short mans body. Sherlock raised John's arms, tugging his shirt up and over his head, dropping it onto the floor.

He saw John's scar. It was on his right side of his shoulder, the flesh pinkish purple. Sherlock ran his slender fingers over it, making John shiver.

"You're like an ice cube," John muttered, making Sherlock smirk.

"I suppose its time you helped warm me up then?" He asked, his silky voice making John harder than he already was. John clung to the side of the table as Sherlock caressed his skin, making him shiver with anticipation.

"God Sherlock...Please, touch me." He moaned out, moving his right hand back to touch Sherlock's hair as he suckled on John's skin. Sherlock had his hands wandering the front of John's body, making his way down to the buttons of his trousers. Slowly popping the buttons open, Sherlock began to pull John's trousers down. John was breathing hard, and he could feel Sherlock's stiffness behind him.

With the trousers discarded, and John aching in his red pants, Sherlock started the fun.

He pulled down John's pants, and made him lean forward on his chest against the table. He felt as Sherlock wrapped his long fingers around John's length, rubbing his thumb of the tip, smearing precome around. John didn't hold back. He bucked into Sherlock's hand, aching for more friction.

"God..You're so beautiful." He whispered huskily into John's back, gently kissing the slightly tanned skin. John just moaned in response, lost in the pleasure of Sherlock's touch. He felt a fire begin to build in his stomach, growing faster as Sherlock stroked him.

"Sherlock!" He yelled out, his voice probably heard by the neighbors and or Mrs. Hudson. John came onto the table in spurts, his body shuddering from his orgasm. He was breathing hard, sweat covering his body. The intensity of it all made Sherlock's senses reach its limits, making him strain against his trousers.

"I hope you know," Sherlock said, kissing John behind his neck," we're not done yet."

He then grabbed John's arm, leading him to his room. Tossing him onto the bed, Sherlock climbed over him so he was between his thighs. Sherlock unbuttoned his shirt, tossing the purple silk to the side. He quickly began to unbuckle his trousers, hastily taking them off as John watched. His softened muscle beginning to become hard again at the sight of Sherlock undressing in front of him.

They made love like hungry animals. Sherlock quickly grabbing lube from the top shelf near his bed, squirting a good amount onto his index and middle finger. He slowly pushed his index finger into John, who had his legs over Sherlock's shoulder. John moaned out loudly as Sherlock added the other finger, scissoring him into a hot mess. Curling his fingers that made John see stars in his vision.

"Sherlock!" He called out, his arms flying and tangling into the sheets as he arched his back, pushing down onto Sherlock's fingers. When Sherlock thought that John was ready, he withdrew his fingers lining himself up with John's hole. He was in between John's legs, supporting himself on his elbows, hovering over the doctor. For a second there, they looked into each others eyes, and time seemed to go slow. They both were covered in sweat, words unspoken between the two.

Sherlock searched John's eyes for any signs of doubt, but John simply lifted his head bringing his lips to connect with the other mans. And with that Sherlock slowly pushed into John, his warmth enveloping him.

"Oh God John!" He moaned against John's lips, the other male sighing in pleasure. Sherlock began to rock his hips, slowly thrusting in and out of John. He found a good rhythm, hitting the sweet spot in John head on. When John got used to it, Sherlock began to thrust faster in and out of him, fucking him into the mattress.

"Oh fuck, Sherlock!" John cursed, nearing his climax again. He reached for his weeping member, pumping himself into his orgasm. Sherlock crashed their lips together, coming hard into John.

"Oh John," Sherlock breathed hard slowly pulling out of the smaller man, his seed slowly flowing out of John's hole. He collapsed next to the other man, his breathing ragged and hard. John was also breathing hard, turning slightly to look at Sherlock.

"I'm topping next time, you hear me?" He said hoarsely, making Sherlock chuckle.

"Not bad for a virgin, don't you think?" Sherlock joked, making both of them begin to laugh together. As they began to calm down, the sleepiness after sex coming over them, John covered them with the blanket they had kicked off during the fun. Sherlock scooting closer and nuzzling into John's chest, while John stroked his hair.

Their connection felt more intense this time, as though they were made for eachother. Before Sherlock nodded off into his chest, John asked a question that was on both of their minds.

"Why do you think we have..whatever this is?" He tapped on his temple with his index finger, signaling that he was talking about their connection.

"Hm," Sherlock started, pausing for a moment," why not?" He asked back, making the other smile. "It stumps me as to why we have this. And it makes my blood boil when I can't tell if w can control it or it is just random. Yet, that doesn't matter to me. All that does is that it gave me you, and I would never give that up.." John forgot how to breathe, while Sherlock kissed the skin in front of him. Their lips met for a lazy kiss, moving together for silent words to be exchanged between the two.

"Wonder what Mrs. Hudson will think when she sees us together…" John began when their lips parted, genuinely curious.

"Well all I know is that she owes me a month of doing all experiments I want, while she doesn't complain." Sherlock smirked, proud of himself.

"What's that all about?" John raised an eyebrow.

"I bet we would shag to establish our relationship, getting lost in the moment, only panting each others names. While she bet we would simply start dating, like normal people. Poor old woman, she has no idea what the world is like nowadays," John felt his cheeks flush as Sherlock placed an arm over his waist, and placed a leg in between John's.

"Nice to know I had any say in this." John retored, earning a snort from Sherlock.

"John, this certain activity we did had you yelling my name so loud we might have gotten a few complaints from the neighbors, and or gave old Hudders a heart attack, either way, it ensured that I had won the bet. So you saying things, helped me win a month free of Mrs. Hudson complaining about body parts in the fridge."

"Glad to know us shagging like animals helped you prove a point," He added, smiling into Sherlock's dark locks of hair.

"I heard no complaints coming from you," Sherlock quipped, resulting in John nearly strangling him with a pillow.

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Okay! So I hope you like the story! Sorry if the ending is bad or something, my internet has been going haywire and so I have had to deal with no internet sometimes. Anyways! I may or may not revise it, all depends!


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